


An Unforgettable Hello

by Hutchlover, Mystic_Whim



Series: With a Little Help From My Friends [4]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hutchlover/pseuds/Hutchlover, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Whim/pseuds/Mystic_Whim
Summary: Hutch struggles with his changing feelings for Starsky.





	An Unforgettable Hello

**An Unforgettable Hello**

  
**by MysticWhim and Hutchlover**

 

 

Hutch was throwing clothes haphazardly into a suitcase, not bothering to hide his anger. Starsky wondered what set him off this time.

"Whatcha doing, Hutch?" He sat down on the king sized bed, troubled by his friend's behavior.

"I'm going back home, Starsky," Hutch ground out. Frustration and fear poured from his veins. Frustration over his confused feelings toward Starsky; fear over Starsky's reaction to them. He glared at Starsky. "It's time."  His tone brokered no argument.

Starsky continued to watch him in silence. His lack of response seemed to mollify his friend, as Hutch's actions calmed down. When he finally began to fold his clothes more carefully, Starsky said quietly, "I don't want you to leave. You're welcome to stay." With that said, he rose from the bed and left the bedroom, not waiting for a reply.

Hutch sank onto the bed, his anger gone. He really wasn't angry with Starsky. He just had all these pent up feelings, and had no acceptable way to express them, or vent them. There had been too much time spent in this house - too much closeness - playing caregiver to Starsky. It was time he moved on, time he focused on his own needs, time he thought about his future. He picked up his suitcase and walked from the bedroom they had been sharing for the last few months.

In the living room, Starsky was working on his latest model ship; an activity that received official sanction from Lenny, the rigid and disciplined physical therapist. Hutch watched him finish a particularly intricate application, feeling strangely moved by the sight. Starsky had come a long way since Gunther's shooting. In fact, his bounce back had been nothing short of exceptional. He certainly didn't need a roommate or a caregiver any longer. Hell, he didn't even need a cheerleader.

"Starsky." Hutch's tone was gentled this time. When Starsky looked up from his work, his good natured forgiveness evident in his eyes, Hutch continued. "I need to move on. You don't need me here anymore. You're ready to be on your own."

He nodded. "Hutch, I want you to stay because I like having you here. You don't have to play nursemaid to me anymore. I'm a big boy. I can wipe my own ass and everything now."

Hutch smiled. He looked affectionately around the rental house that they shared while Starsky healed. "Well at least you finally learned how," he razzed. His gaze fell upon the antique mantle clock. After staring at it a moment, he looked back to Starsky. "It's time, buddy."

Starsky smiled sadly, then gave a quick nod. He stood and extended his hand to formally shake Hutch's hand.

It was a gesture of respect, as well as appreciation, and Hutch recognized the sincerity behind it. He returned the firm shake, then yanked Starsky into a tight embrace. Without another word, he left the home that they had shared for the past several months.

~*~

The door before Hutch swung open to unveil his quiet apartment. Yet the tall blond stood in the doorway, taking in the emptiness of the room that seemed to reflect into his heart.

Even though Hutch made a point to stop by every other day to collect his mail and water the plants he didn't take with him to Starsky's rental, the apartment felt stuffy, unused, and dusty.  As he closed the door behind him, the last was proven as Hutch sneezed.

_Well, it probably is dusty, since Fifi hasn't been here in months._

Instead, Hutch now paid Fifi to clean Starsky's rental home to alleviate his own workload and to keep his healing partner's environment as germ-free as possible during his recovery.

He made his way to the sleeping alcove and wearily dropped the suitcase next to the bed. Even though the night was young and he'd barely touched the dinner Starsky had made, Hutch laid back on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn't bother removing his clothes, just kicked off his loafers to the side. The soft thump they made as they hit the carpeting didn't register in the blond's mind. It was too full of other noise. Like the inner voice of Hutch's conscious.

_I'm sorry, Starsk. I had to. I was getting too close; I was being smothered. Your scent, your joy of life, your love - all of it was wrapping itself around me and squeezing. Everything inside of me was all going to explode._

_I had to leave before I said things I couldn't take back, yet can't face when I'm with you._

Behind closed eyelids, the pictures in his mind were too vivid, so Hutch opened his eyes to face the cold, white ceiling and escape the images of he and Starsky together...holding each other...

~*~

Starsky sighed sadly after Hutch had gone. He wandered around the house, attempting to tidy up, but really only succeeding in momentarily distracting himself from the fact that Hutch had moved out. They had always been together in this house. It would take some getting used to, facing the spacious homestead alone.

It was Hutch who found this place for him. He scoured the classified ads, looking for a rental property, hoping to find something large enough to accommodate the equipment Starsky would need for his recovery and physical therapy.

At first Hutch slept in one of the smaller bedrooms, but after a few rough nights with Starsky left him too exhausted to do anything but collapse on the bed beside his suffering charge, the other bedroom was left behind. It was easier and more efficient to sleep in the same bed, always at the ready when muscles cramped, or the stomach rebelled, or when memories of the shooting began to resurface in Starsky's dreams. After a while, sleeping together had come to feel natural and comforting; a support that would now be desperately missed.

 _If only there had been more time._  Starsky had hoped that Hutch would grow to feel comfortable with their changing relationship, enough so that he would have achieved some level of acceptance about it. There was no denying the relationship had changed, and rather significantly. Both men had been through too much and had fought too hard together to not have it affect them profoundly. Their deep and affectionate friendship had blossomed into a united teamwork, a marriage of goals and dreams and trust. Somewhere along the line, their souls had entwined, and their love had intensified and heightened. Somewhere along the line, Starsky had fallen in love, and that love was equally returned, he was sure. But Hutch had not yet faced the truth that flaunted itself before him. Starsky patiently waited for Hutch to shed his fears and perceptions, and let his heart follow its natural course.

Something tickled at his hand, and he looked down at the offending item. It was an asparagus fern that Hutch brought from his apartment. Starsky smiled. Hutch had left so quickly that he had forgotten about the multitude of plants scattered through the house. Skimming his open palm over the feathery greenery, he felt comforted by its nearness, as if a piece of its owner was represented by its presence. Looking up, he cast a quick glance to see if any of his green roommates needed care. His eyes soon surveyed more than just the plants, taking in all of his current home.

So much had happened here. When Hutch first brought him here, he couldn't even walk in of his own accord. This house had sheltered him and watched him as he was transformed from a helpless invalid to a fit and healthy man. The house had embraced them as friend became beloved. His body had been reborn here, his heart had been freed, his soul had found joy. This building had become more than a structure; this was his  _home_.

Inspiration struck him, and he walked to the phone. Flipping through the address book, he skimmed down the names until he located his landlord. Dialing the number made him feel excited.

"Fran?" he said to the voice on the other end. "This is Dave Starsky. No, everything's fine, Fran. Yes, your muffins were delicious! Thank you! Pie? Sure! You know it won't go to waste here. That would be great. ...Fran, is Gregory there? Would you mind if I stopped by? There's something I'd like to discuss with you. No no, nothing like that. Okay then, I'll be there in about an hour..." He said his goodbyes and ended the call. A smile crept across his lips.

_What have I got to lose?_

~*~

The night rolled on and Hutch tracked the movement of the moon as its light drifted across the ceiling. At one point he woke up after a light catnap, maybe 2 am, maybe 3 am, and he realized his body was hugging what he had come to know as 'his side of the bed'. His sleepy eyes automatically looked next to him, searching for the bedmate he'd had for the last few months. The other side was empty, cool to the touch. Hutch shook his head clear.  _Where's Starsky? I'm miss him. I miss his warmth, his breath on my neck and shoulder._   He shook his head again.  _Knock it off, Hutchinson. Geez, you got this whole damn mattress to yourself, and you're acting like not having Starsky beside you is equivalent to not having your woman beside you._

Steeling his emotions, Hutch physically moved to the center of the bed. But it still felt empty, uncomfortable, and the sleep his body finally found was only through sheer exhaustion, not the restful healing sleep of nature.

He tried to distance himself for the next week from Starsky, but was unable to stop his car from going in that direction (at least that's what he told himself) after work every day. Yet he averted going in, but rather drove by the house slowly before continuing the opposite direction toward Venice Place.

It wasn't like he was avoiding Starsky on purpose. Hell, yes he was. Who was he fooling?

It seems I can't stay away. It's killing me not to be there with you Starsk, but I'm dying when I am there.

After the first sleepless night, Hutch learned he needed to at least occupy himself if he couldn't rest. He started pulling out old sheet music with compositions he started long ago, but never finished.

His body and mind pushed to the limit after nearly two weeks of little rest and constant busy work, Captain Dobey took notice and decided it was time to step in. He requested a private conversation with his worn detective.

"What's going on, son? Is it Starsky?"

Hutch was immediately defensive. "What makes you think anything's wrong?"

"Look at yourself." Dobey raised his arm toward the seated man. "Your gaunt, you've got circles under your eyes, your partner- **"**

"My temporary partner." Hutch growled.

"Your  _temporary partner's_  been filling out and signing all your reports. The last week you've barely been able to drag yourself out of that chair, much less in the office."

"I can do my job fine." Slouched in the chair, Hutch's demeanor was like that of a teenager being scolded by his principal.

"Over the last year I've seen you go from a frustrated civil servant, to a depressed cop who's seen too much, then to an ecstatic and focused one when you realized Starsky was going to survive, and throughout the Gunther investigation. Now you're approaching a burned out man who's got the weight of Atlas on his shoulders."

"There's nothing wrong." Hutch insisted.

"Hutch," Dobey paused.  "I know you've been taking care of Starsky since he was released from re-hab, but maybe it's time you scaled back. You're running too close to empty."

Hearing enough, Hutch got out of the chair to leave. With one hand on the doorknob, he turned back to his superior and said in a softer voice, "I know you're concerned Captain and I appreciate it. But I'm okay. I'm working things out, now."

Empathetic brown eyes took in the long, too thin body that was barely able to stand upright. "Son, if you ever feel like talking, the department psychologist is here to listen. And nobody would think badly of you if they knew you'd been to see him. After all you've been through this past year, it's only natural."

Knowing that Dobey was only trying to be helpful and not prying, Hutch nodded his thanks and took his leave from the Captain's office.

With a sigh, Dobey reached for his phone. Only one person could get through to Hutch when he closed himself off.

~*~

Starsky hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, considering Captain Dobey's words.

_"I'm concerned about Hutch, Dave..."_

_"...spreading himself too thin..."_

_"He looks run down..."_

The words echoed through his head as the concern they inspired pushed him to action. He needed to speak with his friend. Now.

It worried Starsky that Dobey felt the need to call. His boss even suggested that his own wife could split some of the work with Hutch, to free him from some of the responsibilities. Dobey apparently wasn't aware that Hutch had moved out a couple of weeks ago, not to mention that Starsky had not seen him since.

That was not for lack of trying, however. Starsky had called numerous times, but Hutch would rush him off the phone when on the job, and claim to be too busy to see him outside of work. Assuming that Hutch needed the time to himself, Starsky hadn't pushed the matter. Yet, according to Dobey, Hutch seemed to be getting worse since moving out, not better.

Starsky knew that Hutch was struggling with something. He had seen his car drive by a few times, slowing as it passed the house. It was comforting, knowing that Hutch was thinking about him, and perhaps was beginning to tentatively face his feelings about him. He could hope.

But from what Dobey had said, Hutch was still under pressure, beleaguered. It was time to step in, to face the newfound truths and the changing relationship together.

Starsky grabbed his car keys and headed out to confront Hutch.

~~*~~

Sitting at his upright piano, the ringing of the phone didn't register at first to Hutch. He almost fell off the bench in his hurry to pick up the receiver. After all, it might be Dobey and it wouldn't do to give the concerned Captain more ammunition regarding Hutch's appearance and emotional state. And what if it was Starsky?

"Hello." His tone was clipped, as he attempted to smooth his loosened shirt back into place.

"Sue Ann? Sue Ann Grainger?" Hutch's face broke into a broad smile upon hearing the voice of the country singer he and Starsky had befriended when they helped her out during a stalking case.

"How're things going? Good, good. Tonight? Here? Well, sure. I have to..how about dinner, since your plans got cancelled? I've got a great outdoor greenhouse, we can order from Chez Helene's downstairs... Absolutely. I'll have it ready. Okay, see you in an hour or so."

In order to fill his time, Hutch had been spending more and more of his spare hours with his music. Today was a day off work - his first since he left Starsky's - and normally they'd have spent the day together at the beach or the park. Sometimes doing nothing more than walking on the boardwalk. Now he spent most of his free time indoors, including today, giving credence to Dobey's concern as Hutch's healthy tan faded into a pale, sickly tone. He hadn't even been going on his morning runs, due to his bone tired condition.

When Sue Ann arrived an hour later, Hutch's small apartment was a little more organized. His music still lay on the table, but Sue Ann had expressed a desire on the phone to do some singing with Hutch, so he left it out and brought out his guitar from its case in the closet.

A little salad, wine, and stir fry helped ease the mood as the sun went down, and Hutch became more relaxed. He and Sue Ann sung a few old country favorites. The evening air was slightly chilled, but the heat of the outdoor candles and the company, kept them warm.

When it became too cool outside, they went inside with their wine. Sue Ann noticed the music laying around on the coffee table and the piano. Picking some of the handwritten notes up, she told Hutch he should really consider a career in music.

Before he could object, she countered, "I know, you get stage fright. But you have talent, Ken. The first few times are always the hardest. And Starsky wrote to me and told me how well you did when you went undercover at a Honky Tonk. He was so proud of you."

The mention of Starsky's name, combined with Sue Ann's praise caused Hutch's face to change from pale gray to pale rosé. "That's not me, Sue Ann. I sing just for the joy of it. I play my music to relax."

A slender hand reached out and tugged the collar of his shirt. "It doesn't look like such to me. You look tired, Ken."

"She's right babe, you do." The voice coming from the opened doorway startled them.

Hutch nearly lost his balance, as he whipped his head around to see his partner standing sentry...

Light blue eyes lit up at the site of his curly-haired friend, but he remained silent as if letting the image of Starsky standing there seep into his soul.

Sue Ann, however, did not remain silent. "Starsky! I didn't know you were going to be here!" She rushed to his side and gently grasped him by the hands, studying him from head to toe. "You look wonderful! A little thin, but absolutely wonderful!" She pulled him into an embrace, telling him, "I tried going to your apartment to see you, but the landlord said you moved out and sublet your apartment, so I called Hutch. How are you doing? Are you okay? Oh God, I'm not hurting you, am I?" She pulled back abruptly.

Smiling, he shook his head. "Darlin', it'd take more than a hug from you to hurt me," Starsky assured her. To prove his point, he gave her a tight squeeze, picking her up off the floor and twirled her around.

Her light laughter rained down on him. "Dave, with a heart as big as yours, I can't believe the bullets missed it!"

"Didn't Hutch tell ya?" he grinned. "The guy was a lousy shot."

Hutch winced at the comments, even though it was all in fun. The reality of Starsky's failed assassination was still too close to home for him. "Starsk, what are you doing here?"

"I just had some stuff I wanted to talk to you about, but I didn't realize you had such beautiful company," he winked flirtatiously at Sue Ann. "It's nothing that can't wait."

"No, I really should be going," Sue Ann said, reaching for her purse. "I have some phone calls to make yet tonight. Hutch, if you like, I'll be talking to a friend of mine who manages a club in town, and I can get you set up for an audition. It could open some doors for you."

Intimidated by the thought of performing, Hutch quickly declined. "No, Sue Ann. Really, I couldn't..."

"Don't listen to him," Starsky interrupted. "That's just his cold feet talking. You go ahead and talk to that friend of yours, and call tomorrow to tell him when and where. I'll make sure he gets there."

"Starsky, honey, you're a dear!" she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek. "Hutch told me how well you were doing, and I'm so glad I got to see for myself. You take care of yourself, sweetie." She turned to his partner, "Hutch, I'll call you tomorrow with the details."

She said her goodbyes and quickly flitted out of the apartment, before Hutch got a chance to protest. Annoyed, he turned on his friend. "Starsky, what did you tell her that for? I don't want to audition for some club gig."

"Why not?" he asked innocently. "You've got real talent, Hutch. If a pro like Sue Ann thinks so, why not listen to her? With support like that behind you, it could really open some doors for you. Besides, what's with you lately? You always gonna run away from the things you want?"

Hutch felt a chill of dread run down his spine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You heard me."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." With an exasperated shake of his head, he reached out and took Starsky by the arm and started to guide him to the door. "Look, Starsk, I'm glad you came by tonight, but I've got a lot of things I need to get done, and now I've got to worry about throwing together something for that audition you promised Sue Ann I'd do."

"You giving me the bum's rush, Hutchinson?" Starsky asked with a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"What? No! I have a lot to get done."

"I came over here tonight to ask you why you're avoiding me."

Hutch blinked. "I'm not avoiding you, I'm just-"

"You're avoiding me," Starsky countered. "The few times you talk to me when I call at work, you sound real happy, but then you can't get me off the phone fast enough."

"That's ridiculous." Hutch rolled his eyes.

"If I try to get together with you, you brush me off. This is the first time I've seen you since you moved out, and it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't forced it."

"I've been busy!" He couldn't look directly at him.

"You're avoiding me, and I wanna know why." Starsky stepped closer, trying to draw his gaze.

Hutch opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut. Looking away, he sighed. His voice was quiet. "It's not you, Starsk."

"Bull." Starsky declared. "What did I do? Say something to piss you off?"

"No, of course not," Hutch shook his head.

"Then what?" Starsky's eyes were intently boring into him.

"We're just spending too much time together," Hutch quietly explained. "Depending on each other too much, needing too much from each other."

Starsky's eyes twinkled. "You mean me. I've been depending on you too much."

Hutch looked up, his face softening. "I didn't mean it like that. It's not just you...," he stopped himself, realizing that he said more than he intended.

"What, you depend on me? For what, Hutch?"

"I...ah..." Hutch fumbled for words.

"You need me, Hutch?" Starsky asked, stepping even closer to him. " _What_  do you need from me?"

Hutch dropped his head, shaking it in silence. Words would not come.

"Do you  _want_   _me_ , Hutch?"

The words dove into Hutch like a hot knife. There was no way to answer this without baring his soul to Starsky. He feared the reaction the truth would evoke, and turned to walk away.

Starsky reached out and gripped his arm. "'Cause I gotta tell you, babe, I'm feeling the same way."

Hutch stared at the hand anchoring him in place, then let his eyes raise up to meet Starsky's. What he saw there stole his breath. Starsky's eyes glowed with love, and understanding. "Starsky, I...I..."

"I know," he assured him. "I've been feeling it, too. Things have changed between us. Don't run from it, Hutch. I'm not."

He looked at Starsky disbelievingly. Assuming Starsky couldn't possibly understand, Hutch grabbed him by both arms, his voice hoarse with emotion, and confessed, "Starsky,  _I'm in love with you!"_

Starsky's face lit with a beautiful smile. "I love you too, Hutch."

Hutch's eyes instantly misted and he sniffed. He struggled to keep his emotions in control. "You  _know?_ "

"Sure I know. It's been happening to both of us, not just you, ya know." He shook loose of Hutch's grip and pulled the man into a fierce embrace. "Damn, Hutch. You look like you're gonna start the waterworks any second," he said in a softened voice as he squeezed him tightly. He gently razzed him, "I told ya I love you, I didn't insult your favorite plant."

Hutch chuckled, but his eyes glistened with unshed tears. With an arm around Starsky's neck, he pulled the man's head close and downward so he could place a kiss on the top of his curls. "God, Starsk. What am I gonna do with you?"

Starsky's head popped up with a sly grin. "You might want to consider rephrasing that, babe. Let me count the ways..."

If possible, Hutch blushed even darker.

To let his embarrassed partner off the hook, Starsky stepped in and grabbed Hutch's face between his hands. "Why don't we start with this?" he exclaimed as he pressed his lips to Hutch's.

Hutch started to pull back in shock, but Starsky held fast. At first the kiss was awkward and hesitant, but soon softened under Starsky's insistence. When the kiss ended, Hutch moaned quietly, mourning the loss of Starsky's lips. Starsky was watching him, giving him a chance to react. He reached out and touched Starsky's lips lightly with his fingertips. A loving smile blossomed on Hutch's face and his eyes sparkled.  _"David Starsky,"_ he whispered, as if he had just discovered the name. He cupped Starsky's face in his hands, and kissed him softly.

Starsky's toes curled. The man was barely touching him, and his whole body was enflamed. But when Hutch's fingers traced down his throat to his collarbone, he felt every nerve jump to attention. The touch was so light it was tortuously ticklish, yet he was enthralled by every caress. Hutch's hand slipped inside Starsky's shirt, and he felt the fabric's faint tug at his chest, hips and shoulder. The light touch at his collarbone was echoed by the fabric against his skin, as if Hutch's hands were teasing him in several places at once.

Hutch pulled back and began to unbutton Starsky's shirt. His hands grazed over Starsky's chest in such curious exploration, that Starsky was almost embarrassed. The serious and intent expression on Hutch's face was exciting the hell out of him, bringing the newness of this experience to the forefront of his awareness.

Electrified from Hutch's touch, Starsky grabbed Hutch's hand and brought it lower, stopping just short of pressing it to his own groin. He had expressed his desire clearly enough, but wanted Hutch to be the one to follow through, willingly. Starsky watched Hutch as he looked at his hand clasped just inches from Starsky's fly. His eyes rose to meet Starsky's, fully confident and without hesitation. He did not break the gaze as he flicked his partner's fly open and slipped his hand within the denim.

Starsky gasped in surprise. Those fingers seemed to know exactly how he liked to be stroked and squeezed, and they quickly brought him to an intense arousal. He was about to call Hutch's name when the man claimed his mouth in a plundering kiss. Hutch's other hand cupped Starsky's ass, pulling him up and closer as he squeezed the soft flesh. Starsky whimpered, desperately reaching for Hutch's waistband.

"No," Hutch whispered, moving his hips out of Starsky's reach. "No, I won't be able to think. Just let me... _touch you_." He stroked Starsky's shaft. "God, I've wanted so long to just touch you, it was making me crazy."

Starsky held Hutch, gathering handfuls of shirt into his fists. He didn't know if he was holding on for the need to have contact with him, or to keep himself standing. Burying his face into Hutch's neck, he inhaled the smells of shampoo mingled with aftershave and fabric softener, and recognized that familiar essence of Hutch blending it all together. Hutch's scent, his touch, his breath against Starsky's ear, overwhelmed him. But when Hutch whispered his name, and said he loved him, Starsky let go, claimed by the orgasm and the words that branded his soul.

Hutch felt the explosive rush hit Starsky, and clutched the man in his arms. He kissed him lovingly and affectionately; his hair, his ear, his neck. Suddenly, Starsky began to sink slowly to the floor, his legs shaky beneath him, and Hutch tried to ease his descent. When Starsky's knees touched the carpeting, Hutch still had his arms around him, nuzzling his cheek against the dark curls.

But Starsky had not crumpled weakly. As Hutch bowed over him, the man's weight was unbalanced, and Starsky took full advantage. He sprung forward and upward, propelling Hutch backwards until he collided with, and fell back upon, his couch. Caught completely off guard, Hutch lay pinned beneath Starsky, who gazed down upon him with lusty, smoky eyes. "You can only tie my hands for so long, babe. Now it's my turn!"

Hutch's throaty chuckle was silenced with a heated kiss from Starsky.

Straddling Hutch's hips, Starsky sat up. He tugged at his partner's shirt, helping to pull it from his body in a quick gesture. His own shirt was thrown after it. Then he slipped lower, reaching to undo the fly of Hutch's jeans. Hutch's hands came up, ready to assist, but Starsky gently pushed them away. "My show, remember?"

Willingly surrendering, Hutch watched as Starsky undressed him. Soon he lay naked on the couch, a half-naked Starsky kneeling between his legs. Lifting one leg to brush it against Starsky's denim clad one, he asked, "Aren't you going to lose these?" Using his thighs, he scrunched the still-opened pants down Starsky's buttocks.

"Quit sidetracking me here," Starsky laughed as he stood up and wiggled the rest of his way out of his clothes and threw them aside. Finally, he returned his attention back to his partner, spread naked in front of him. "Damn, Hutch," he breathed. "You're a knock out." He ran his hands over the smooth, fair skin until they came to rest on either side of Hutch's groin. "What a monster. You taste as good as you look?"

Before Hutch could reply, Starsky took Hutch's erection in his mouth, bathing the glistening head with his tongue, and then running wetly down the length of the shaft. Hutch gave a strangled primitive cry, and Starsky grinned. He felt a rush of pleasured power run through him; heady with the knowledge that he could satisfy Hutch, could devastate him with pleasure. Though he had never done this before, he was no stranger to what felt good. He sucked and licked until Hutch was panting for breath, then he pressed forward until he took the man deep into his throat. Hutch's hands grabbed him by the shoulders, his nails digging in, as he practically lifted right off the couch.

"Starsky!" he cried out wildly.

Starsky started to sweep the tip of his nose lightly through the soft reddish pubic hair, the gesture causing his throat to work Hutch's shaft deliciously as he traced swirling patterns on the pale skin. It thrilled him to hear Hutch's cries, to feel the powerful man trembling beneath his touch. He was filled with joy. Tears sprang to his eyes just before he felt Hutch's shaft grow rigid against his tongue, and finally felt the pulsing pleasure course through the length of the steely cock.

As Hutch's penis grew smaller and softer in his mouth, awareness seeped in of just how sore his jaw was from the workout on unused muscles. He regretted having to surrender his treasure, but the abrupt hiss from Hutch warned him that his partner was overly sensitized and could handle no more. He gently freed the spent organ and curled up on Hutch's chest, rubbing his cheek against the slick smooth skin.

Hutch tucked a crooked finger under Starsky's chin and lifted his face so that he could see it. "That was amazing," he whispered. The happy, wet eyes concerned Hutch. "Did I choke you?" he asked, brushing the moisture from those damp lashes.

"Yeah, but that's not why my eyes are watering," Starsky admitted softly. "It just kinda hit me, you know? I really like making you feel that good. I like loving you."

Hutch's expression was soft as a smile lit his face. "Yes, well, you're welcome to do that any time you like."

Starsky chuckled. "Yeah? You liked that, huh? I did okay?" He grinned knowingly.

"Ha! More than okay, babe. No one's ever made me feel like that." He sighed peacefully, his arms enfolding Starsky.

Snuggling happily into the embrace, Starsky murmured, "Feels so right with you, Hutch. Just perfect."

"Perfect," Hutch whispered, closing his eyes.

~*~

A week later Hutch had successfully passed an audition for Jimmy Blue, manager at 'Cliff Breakers', a nightclub aimed at the professional set. Jimmy offered Hutch a part time job of entertaining one night a week singing his own compositions and covering other singer's works. For now the set up would be only on a trial basis for both parties, and no contract was signed, in the event it didn't work out. And he could always make this a one-time gig.

With much trepidation he decided to accept, or rather Starsky convinced him to accept. Hutch still wasn't sure he would be able to get onstage in front of all those people, but if Carly Simon could overcome her stage fright, then why shouldn't he? Besides, with the recessed lights in the ceiling above the stage, so maybe he wouldn't be able to see the audience.

~*~

Back at home, Starsky was nearly finished cleaning the stove when he heard the ring of the doorbell. Tossing his supplies aside, he grabbed a towel to wipe his hands as he trotted to the front door. He was surprised to see his landlords, Fran and Gregory, at the door, accompanied by a short handsome man in an expensively tailored suit. Fran had an incredible looking pie in her hands.

"Hi Fran, Gregory!" He nodded to the stranger, "Hi! Come on in!"

"Dave, I'm sorry to stop by without warning like this," Fran apologized.  "We should have called."

"No, it's fine. Have a seat. You're not interrupting anything. I was just cleaning." He slung the kitchen towel over his shoulder.

Fran placed the pie in his hands. "Here, dear. This is for you. I hope you like apple."

Starsky smiled broadly. "Homemade apple pie? What, are you kidding? I love it! You want me to cut into this now? We could all have some."

"No!" Gregory declared, holding up his hand. "We've just had some at home. Dan and I each had two pieces!" He rubbed his ample belly. "As good as Frannie's pies are, I couldn't possibly squeeze in another bite."

"Gregory! Dave hasn't met Dan yet!" Fran chastised her husband. "Where are your manners?"

"Ah yes! Dan, come here. Meet Dave Starsky. Dave, this is Dan Ferolie."

Starsky took a quick assessment of the man. He was considerably shorter, but strikingly handsome, and had a quick eye. This man looked sharp, but kind, and bore a slight resemblance to a young Al Pacino. His handshake was confident and firm. "Nice to meet you, Dan."

Dan looked at Starsky with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you too."

"David here is that policeman that was shot down in front of the station several months ago," Fran explained. "He's been renting our house during his recuperation."

"Ah, I see!" Dan smiled. "I thought that name sounded familiar. I'm glad you came through that okay. It sounded pretty bad from what I heard on the news."

Starsky shifted uncomfortably at the attention. "Yeah, well, it takes more than a few bullets to stop me," he kidded. "Please, have a seat. Would anyone like some ice tea? I have a pitcher in the fridge." They all agreed to the beverage and Starsky got them all seated and served.

"Dave, the reason we stopped by is we have an offer to run by you. Dan here is an attorney, and he's been looking over what we discussed about your interest in buying this house. He's got some great ideas, and we wanted to check with you right away."

Starsky sat up straighter. "You mean it? You're gonna sell it to me?"

"Yes, honey," Fran patted him on the knee. "We brought your ideas to Dan, and he said he works out deals like this all the time."

"That's right, Dave," Dan joined in.  "What you described to Fran and Gregory is what we call a Land Contract. Basically, it's a rent-to-own type of arrangement. Your rent payments would go toward the mortgage. In a few years, you buy it outright for a lower price."

"Are you sure you still want to do this, David?" Fran asked.

Starsky laughed, his smile absolutely brilliant. "Fran, I'm sure. I'm positive!"

The four worked out the details of the Land Contract, and had it all settled in no time. Starsky saw them to the door, tucking Dan's business card into his wallet. When the door closed, the reality of what just took place hit him full force. He turned around and leaned his back against the front door, and surveyed his home. His home. The thought made him joyous.

He wandered through the home, imagining the changes he would make. Most were small. A different paint here, blinds instead of curtains there. Some were more significant. Stripping the painted woodwork, and ripping out the overgrown shrubs out front. He ended up in the back yard, shaking his head at the folding lawn chairs they used on the patio. A real patio set would be in order. The privacy fence around the yard was in good repair, but could use a fresh coat of stain. Perhaps he could plant a garden this year... He examined the pathetic little flower bed that lay adjacent to the house. Suddenly his mind pictured a large greenhouse in its place. He smiled.

_Yeah, Hutch would love that._

~*~

Starsky groaned painfully as he collapsed into a heap on Hutch's couch. "Lenny was brutal today," he complained. "And I think he enjoyed it. He had a real nasty gleam in his eye."

"PT session that rough?" Hutch asked with concern. "Are you sure you're up to grocery shopping tonight? You look beat."

"I am beat." Starsky looked up with puppy dog eyes. "You mind if we go tomorrow instead? I'm hurtin'."

"There's no rush; we've got enough to hold us a while." Hutch sat beside his friend and placed a hand in the middle of this back. "You want a back rub?"

"Oh hell yeah," Starsky grinned.

"I think I've still got some of that stuff Lenny gave me," Hutch said. He went to the bathroom to retrieve it. When he came back, Starsky had taken off his shirt and turned sideways on the couch to give Hutch easier access to his back and shoulders. Hutch kneeled down slowly, and reached out to touch the healed wounds that flowed across Starsky's back. His hand traced the scars as he reflected on each one, the bottle of massage oil left beside him.

Starsky cringed away from his touch. "Come on Hutch, don't do that."

Hutch snapped out of his reverie and jerked his hand away. "Don't what? Does that hurt?"

"No, it didn't hurt. You're staring at my scars, and it's making me self-conscious."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean anything. I love those scars." He picked up the oil and poured some in his hand to warm it before applying it to Starsky's back.

"Yeah, right. They're not much to look at, but they've got a great personality..." he responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You know, you're weird sometimes. Why would you love my mangled back?"

Hutch was about to place his oiled hands on Starsky's skin, but stopped short. Instead, he lowered his head and reverently kissed the highest scar.

The unexpected, gentle kiss sent waves of goosebumps and shivers down Starsky's skin. He closed his eyes, touched by the gesture.

Leaning close to Starsky's ear, Hutch said quietly, "I love those scars because I'd rather have you here with scars, then not have you at all. Those scars mean life to me. Your life. And I love them for it."

Starsky turned to Hutch, his eyes misty, and kissed him sweetly. Hutch turned him back, then proceeded to give him a long and soothing back rub, working out the tight knots and loosening stretched muscles. When he felt the pain ease, Starsky reached across with his right hand to still Hutch's left. "That's good, babe, thanks." He pulled Hutch's hand to his lips and kissed it.

Hutch wiped the excess oil from Starsky's back with a hand towel, then began exploring the furred abdomen and chest with his right hand. Roughened fingertips lightly traced each scar; twirled around sparse curls; caressed burgeoning nipples.

When Starsky's breathing increased, Hutch drew his hand downward to the tight jeans. He brought his left hand up to pet the thick head of curls as his right made short work of the metal button and stiff zipper.

Starsky sighed in relief as his expanding penis was given more room. He waited with baited breath for Hutch's large, loving hand to gather him in its warmth. He was momentarily surprised when Hutch's hand left his groin.

The left hand in Starsky's hair began tracing his face, and he turned his head to capture the forefinger between his teeth, nipping gently as an indicator that he wanted Hutch to get back to his cock.

Starsky hissed in surprise when a large, wet hand slipped into his briefs. Hutch had taken a few moments to gather more oil to better please his partner.

As Hutch continued to caress him slowly, lovingly, Starsky moaned in appreciation and stretched out his body in pleasure; basking in the attention.

"Shh.." Hutch leaned down and kissed Starsky's shoulder, watching the closed eyes and bowed mouth.

Moving onto his back so he could see his lover, Starsky again grabbed Hutch's face and kissed him deeply, tongue charging into the open mouth above him as the pleasure in his veins staked higher and higher.

Hutch moved away, took the waistband of Starsky's jeans and briefs and slid them off the narrow hips, as Starsky lifted his ass to assist.

Once the obstructive clothing was removed from his dusky lover, Hutch knelt over Starsky's cock and gave it a long swipe of his tongue, from tip to base. Swirling his tongue over the soft head, he brought his right hand up to cup and knead the heavy balls.

Starsky groaned and flung his arm up over his head. "Oh damn, Hutch. Oh yeah..."

While Hutch continued to mouth Starsky's penis, the other man raised himself up and clawed at Hutch's shirt. "This ain't no fun without you. I need you. Up here, with me."

Releasing Starsky, Hutch allowed him to remove his shirt, but then bent back down to savor more of the dusky, purplish cock. His smooth and damp hand dipped lower of their own volition and Hutch began to outline the crack of Starsky's ass with his finger.

"Hutch..."  Starsky panted, unable to articulate thoughts into words over the sensations running rampant through him. "Need..."

Again Hutch shushed him as he continued to orally bathe Starsky's penis while his right finger alternatively tickled, then massaged Starsky's anus.

Abruptly a picture of the two of them locked together entered into Hutch's mind and he raised his head in shock at the surge that picture gave his own cock.

The sensation of cool air hitting his groin brought Starsky up and he grabbed Hutch's upper arm. "Now Hutch. Get naked now!" The tone of his voice brooked no argument.

Hutch complied, stumbling in his haste to remove his cords, then lowered himself onto Starsky's warm body.

Instinctively, Starsky opened his legs to embrace his lover.

Their mouths met and melded together as assuredly as their groins. Starsky raised his legs to wrap around Hutch's middle to try to bring his partner even closer. As far as Starsky was concerned they could never get close enough.

In their grinding and with Starsky's shift, Hutch's penis stropped against his lover's perineum and slipped lower.

Without separating mouths, Hutch reached down with his left hand and felt for the oil. He awkwardly flipped open the lid and spilled some on his hand, reaching down beneath Starsky to pet his anus.

Stimulating his lover to an even higher peak, Hutch realized where they were headed. To become one with his soul mate, his best friend, his lover.

Rearing back, Hutch looked at Starsky's face. The blue eyes opened questioningly, velvet desire shining up at him.

'Nothing denied, nothing held back' is what Hutch read on the beloved face.  _But this..._

Hutch's body answered for him. It knew what it wanted, even if Hutch's mind was still unsure. Needing no guidance, Hutch's cock instinctively found its mark, as he removed his hand to anchor himself against Starsky's hip.

The first few thrusts were inexpert and arduous. But the two lovers soon fell into a rhythm as old as Adam and Eve. The position wasn't easy, especially for Starsky, but the completeness he felt inside more than made up for his surrender.

Climaxes were reached with shudders and groans. Hutch's right hand helping Starsky to attain that peak. Releasing the sensitized organ, Hutch held himself up over his lover. Eyes closed, muscles trembling.

Starsky reached up and drew the long body down and nestled Hutch's blond head into his neck. A gentle kiss touched his artery and was felt in his heart. The hairs on Hutch's mustache tickled and trembled against Starsky's neck as his lover's breath eased into easy sleep.

Starsky's relaxed body followed. Thoughts of their future together brought a corresponding smile to his lips as he surrendered to dreams of love and togetherness. No more looking for what was missing. He held it all in his arms now.

~~*~~

It was New Year's Eve, and Hutch's first performance at 'Cliffbreakers'. He decided to take it back. He was too nervous to go onstage. As he paced back and forth in the dressing room, his long strides taking him from one end to the other with just a few steps, he pushed his fists into his suitcoat pockets. His right fist crumbled against paper laid in the pocket.  _A note, probably from Starsky_ , he realized as he unfolded the plain white page. Thinking back, Hutch remembered Starsky reaching into his pocket with his left hand when they embraced just before Hutch left his apartment to go to 'Cliffbreakers'. He was so wrapped up in the kiss, that he didn't pay much attention, instead thinking that Starsky was trying to get fresh with him.

_Blondie,_

_If I know you, you're probably working yourself into a frenzy of stage fright. Relax. I'll be there, the whole gang'll be there, and we'll be cheering for you the loudest. I'm so proud of you, babe. With everything we've been through this past year, singing in front of an audience should be as easy as chasing the bad guys._

_Here's something to think about..._

_Tonight's the first night of a new decade, a new year, a new you and me, and later tonight, I'll show you a few other new things._

_Love, S_

Hutch smiled and shook his head slightly, imaging the wicked grin on Starsky's face as he wrote that.  _You dummy, the decade starts in 1981, but I love you anyway_.

Starsky walked into the club dressed to the nines. He even had gone so far as to don his dark fedora, the hat rakishly pulled down over one eye. His new charcoal gray tailored suit flattered his slender body well, and the color made his eyes a gleaming blue.  Light in his step, he sauntered up to the bartender and asked him if it was possible to get a message to the singer. The bartender slid a notepad and a pen over to Starsky, who jotted ** _I'm here - S_** and tore the sheet free.

"I'll see that he gets it," the man said cheerfully, folding the sheet in half.

Starsky gazed around the club. The bar was crowded; its customers affluent and showy. He was glad that Frankie had suggested that he wear this suit. Never having been to this club, he had no idea how ritzy it was. There were brocade curtains and warm wine colored walls. The tables were covered in heavy gray tablecloths, with flickering candle centerpieces in maroon glass holders that added to the mystery and warmth of the room. All the servers wore pressed white shirts and black pants or skirts.

He spotted Frankie and Malo and hurried to join them, smiling broadly. It was the first time he had been out socially with a group of friends since he got home from the hospital.

"Hey, Starsky! You look sharp!" Frankie cried, slapping his friend on the back.

"Yeah, Starsky, you look really good," Malo added. "Gained back a little weight, huh?"

Starsky laughed. "Yeah, Hutch has been shoving food at me. Isn't that a switch?"

"You look good," Malo repeated. "Better than ever."

A funny smile crossed Starsky's face. "Thanks Malo." He looked around. "Where's Flower Pot and Grace?

"I'm right here," Flower Pot piped up from behind him.

Starsky whirled around and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Flower Pot in a three piece suit. "Gino! My God! You cut your hair?!"

"Hell no!" Flower Pot chuckled. He turned so that Starsky could see the long braid down his back. "I don't cut my hair for anybody, man. Not even to get in to see Hutch perform. I'll wear this monkey suit, but no one's getting a pair of scissors near me."

"Wow, Flower Pot! Wait 'til Hutch gets a load of you! You look... Geez, I wouldn't have recognized you!" Starsky shook his head.

"I look ordinary," Flower Pot sighed.

Starsky reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Gino, you will never be ordinary."

Hutch walked up to the group, smiling nervously and looking like he was ready to bolt out the nearest door. He was dressed all in white, his healthy tan glowing. "You all made it!" he exclaimed with pleasure. "Thanks for coming!" He cast a glance at Starsky who immediately took note of the anxious look.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Grace told him, squeezing his hand.

Hutch turned to Flower Pot and his mouth dropped open. "Flower Pot! You dressed up for me?"

"Heard the joint has some kind of dress code, man. Figured I could take it for one night." He stepped up next to Frankie, leaning an elbow on his shoulder. "This dude loaned me the threads. Said he'd make me presentable."

"He cleans up good, don't he?" Frankie kidded.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." Flower Pot shook his head. "Only for you, Hutch."

Hutch held out his hand to shake. "Thank you, Gino. I'm really glad you came." He turned to the others in the group. "I'm really glad you all came tonight. It means a lot to me." One by one he looked at their faces, until at last he came upon Starsky.

"I'm getting a drink. Come with me," Starsky said as he quickly left the group, heading for the bar. He was ordering his beer when Hutch came up beside him.

"You okay?" Starsky asked.

"Oh yeah. Just a little nervous," he grinned. The smile did not reach his eyes.

"No, I mean about us." Starsky watched his face for any negative reaction.

"Oh, no!" Hutch exclaimed. "I mean yes! Yes, I'm okay." He smiled genuinely, and gripped Starsky's arm. "I'm more than okay. Honestly."

Starsky smiled back. "I was afraid you were nervous around me now, or having second thoughts..."

Immediately calmer, Hutch shook his head. "No, absolutely not. No regrets. I'm happy about this. I'm a little nervous about the show, but..." Then he asked, "Are  _you_  happy about this?"

"I love you," Starsky said simply. "Of course I'm happy!"

Hutch requested a glass of water from the bartender. He looked at Starsky with embarrassment. "It's funny..." he mused. "I had this urge to send you flowers today."

"Why didn't you?"

Hutch laughed. "Send you flowers? You'd have laughed at me. I'd never hear the end of it."

Starsky looked at him with pure innocence. "I would not!" He gave a little shrug. "I think that's kinda nice. Nobody's ever sent me flowers before. If that's what you feel like doing, then you should do it."

"You'd like that? You wouldn't hassle me about it?"

Starsky shook his head.

Hutch leaned his back against the bar. "I'm a little thrown off kilter here," he confessed. "All the rules have changed, and now there are no rules. If you were a girl..." he turned his head to look at Starsky and caught a glimpse of something sad flash in his eyes. "I hurt your feelings. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know what you mean." He smiled reassuringly. "Don't let this stuff get to you. We'll figure it all out."

"I want you to know how I feel," Hutch flustered. "I don't want you to be wondering if I'm okay about this. I don't want you wondering if I love you. I want you to be sure. I don't know how to tell you!"

He nudged Hutch. "You just did. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You know, when I left today, I almost called you 'darling'. I just felt so...so close, so..."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Hutch laughed. "You're really okay with this."

"Hutch, you can call me whatever you want. You don't mind if I do that to you, do you?" Starsky asked as he smoothed out the collars on Hutch's white shirt.

"No, of course not." Hutch looked at him lovingly.

"I can call you babe, darlin', sweetheart, dumplin'...?"

"Wait.  **Stop**." Hutch shook his head. "Dumpling?"

"What's wrong with dumplin'?"

"Hold it. Let's draw the line here," Hutch suggested. "No food products. Please."

"No food products?" Starsky grinned. "I already call you Blintz."

"Okay, Blintz stays," he acquiesced. "But let's not add any more."

Starsky walked away with a smirk. "You got it, honey bun."

Hutch opened his mouth to voice a complaint about the term, then snapped it closed when he realized that Starsky was too far ahead of him. He scrambled to catch up. "Honey bun?" he said under his breath as he caught up to him near their friends.

Starsky quietly shot back, "Don't worry, cupcake. No more." He nearly burst out laughing as Hutch growled. They were too close to their friends to continue the discussion.

"I have to get backstage," Hutch announced. He looked directly at Starsky who winked at him.

In his best bad-Bogie impression, Starsky grinned, "Break a leg, schweetheart."

Hutch looked at him, amused. "Thanks." He winked back, then turned and left the group.

"He didn't look as nervous after talking to you," Grace observed.

"Nah, he'll be fine." Starsky tore his eyes away from his retreating partner and smiled at Grace. "He just thinks too much sometimes."

They continued to enjoy themselves until the house lights dimmed. The announcer introduced Hutch, who came onstage without any hint of the stage fright that had made him nervous earlier. He sat on a tall stool with his guitar and quickly went into a song, which he performed flawlessly.

Listening for a while, Starsky smiled. Hutch was in top form tonight, singing as well as Starsky had ever heard him. He was excited for him, and proud of his talent.

Between songs, Starsky could see him scanning the audience, but realized the bright stage lights probably inhibited Hutch's eyesight considerably. He never focused on any of the members of their group.  

"I'm gonna get a bit closer," Starsky stated, rising from his seat.

"I'll go with you," Flower Pot offered, following Starsky through the crowd.

They made their way closer to the stage until Starsky found himself in clear view of his friend. Hutch caught sight of them and smiled, nodding subtly in their direction. He started to play a few notes on the guitar, then stopped and looked in their direction again. He stood up and leaned the guitar against the stool, then walked over to the piano, slightly left of center stage.

Hutch adjusted the microphone, announcing that he was going to play a Lionel Richie song. He looked to Starsky, who was standing a short distance away in the shadows, with Flower Pot at his side. He was directly in front of Hutch, his hands in his pockets.

Their eyes met, and Starsky swallowed hard. Hutch was serious. Very, very serious. The bar patrons seemed to vanish to leave in solitude the two men whose eyes were locked on each other. He began to play the song's introduction, playing just for Starsky.

Flower Pot noticed Hutch's direct attention on Starsky and gave him a nudge. "Hey man," he whispered, "I think he's singing this for you."

Starsky could not suppress his grin. "Yes, he is," Starsky whispered back, wondering what song Hutch had chosen.

"I've been alone with you inside my mind," Hutch sang. "And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times. I sometimes see you pass outside my door... Hello! Is it me you're looking for? I can see it in your eyes, I can see it in your smile; you're all I've ever wanted, and my arms are open wide. Because you know just what to say, and you know just what to do, and I want to tell you so much 'I love you.'"

Starsky listened breathlessly. The hair on his arms and on the back of his neck were standing on end, his every nerve at attention. His eyes never left Hutch's intense gaze as he continued with the love song.

"I long to see the sunlight in your hair, and tell you time and time again how much I care. Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow... Hello! I've just got to let you know. Because I wonder where you are, and I wonder what you do. Are you somewhere feeling lonely? Or is someone loving you? Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue. But let me start by saying 'I love you'."

The audience applauded generously, and Hutch bowed his thanks. He started to leave the stage, looking back once at Starsky with a large smile on his face. Starsky put his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. Placing his hand over his heart, Hutch left the stage.

As the applause ended and the crowd went back to their social activities, Starsky turned to Flower Pot, and to face the music.

"Well I'll be damned!" Flower Pot exclaimed. He clapped Starsky on the back, cheering, "Congratulations, man! I'm happy for you!"

"It doesn't bother you, Gino?"

Puzzled, Flower Pot shook his head. "Hell no. Why should it bother me? Whatever turns you on, man. Celebrate life. Celebrate each other. I'm just happy for you." He nudged Starsky forward. "Come on, man! I'll buy you a drink."

They returned to the table, and found everyone in a celebratory mood. All were thrilled for Hutch's successful show. The party was on full force. Grace popped off to the ladies room during the break, while Frankie and Malo went to scope out the rest of the club.

Starsky and Flower Pot were seated at a table by themselves when Hutch walked up to them, his face lit with joy.

"Here's the man of the hour," Starsky smiled, his eyes twinkling. Aside to Hutch, he whispered, "Looks like you found a way to tell me how you feel. You sure know how to give an unforgettable hello." Hutch smiled and squeezed Starsky's arm.

"Hey Hutch! Congratulations, man!" Flower Pot greeted him.

"Thanks Flower Pot. It really felt good tonight. Everything went smoothly, and the audience really seemed to like it." Hutch sounded slightly surprised.

"Of course they liked it," Starsky chided him.

"Yeah, Hutch. Congratulations on the show, and congratulations on you and Starsky getting together. I wish you the best, man." He stood and shook Hutch's hand.

Happiness shining on his face, Hutch pulled Flower Pot into a bear hug. "Thanks Flower Pot!" He looked at Starsky, love and happiness shining in his eyes. As he released his friend, he saw a waitress whisk by the table. "Waitress! Please! Another round for my friends!" He looked to the happy faces of his companions. "We're celebrating doubly tonight!" The waitress scurried off to get their drinks.

"Doubly? What else are we celebrating?" Frankie asked as he and Malo and Grace returned to their seats.

Instantly realizing his mistake, Hutch responded quickly. "We're celebrating my successful show, and the New Year!"

"Here, here!" Malo cried, downing the rest of his beer.

Hutch sat down at the table with Starsky and Flower Pot with an embarrassed laugh. "Oops," he whispered.

Flower Pot looked at Hutch. His voice was quiet and filled with understanding. "You can tell them, man. They're your friends."

"Gino's right," Starsky declared, standing up. He quickly gained the attention of the rest of the group. "We're celebrating one more thing," Starsky told them. "We're celebrating that Hutch and me are a couple." He looked at the startled faces of his friends. "We're in love."

There was a heartbeat of silence at the table as Frankie and Malo looked at each other in shock. Frankie got up from the table and walked up to Starsky and extended his hand. "Shit, Starsky! I thought you guys were a couple a long time ago. Took you long enough, Romeo! Congratulations!

Starsky burst out laughing.

~*~

Hutch awoke to Starsky sliding his hand up Hutch's flank, his hip, his side. Turning to face him, he roughly pulled Starsky into his arms, and a deep kiss. "Good morning," he smiled.

"Mmm, it sure is," Starsky murmured. "Did anyone ever tell you you've got a great way with greetings? Hello, good morning, Happy New Year..."

Laughing, Hutch indulged in another kiss, then hugged Starsky tightly. "You've got a great way about you too, partner." Feeling nature calling, he looked at the clock and sighed. The morning had come far too quickly. "Can I bargain with you?" Hutch asked, dragging himself from Starsky's comfortable arms and stretching his abused muscles. He walked naked to the bathroom. "I'll make the coffee and breakfast if you go start a fire?" he suggested invitingly.

Starsky grinned. He loved to tend to a fire, and it had been a long time since they had enjoyed sitting before the fireplace; at least before Hutch had moved back to his own apartment.

"You got a deal!" he exclaimed. He slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed for the fireplace.

He was grateful Hutch had found this house for him to rent when he was in the hospital. He never would have thought about a fireplace, had he been able to house-hunt himself. Now he couldn't imagine living without one. Even hot dogs tasted better cooked on the fire.

Starsky had a perfect blaze going when Hutch joined him with two cups of coffee. "So where's my breakfast?" Starsky complained.

Hutch smiled. "Relax, I got everything all set. I'll start it whenever you're ready." He put his arm around his partner, sharing the warmth of the fire.

"I'm not as hungry as I thought I was," Starsky sighed contentedly. "It can wait."

Peacefully gazing at the fire, Hutch gestured at the mantle. "You know, it's a shame they painted over that. This room's got some great old woodwork, and it's hidden under layers and layers of paint."

"I've thought the same thing," Starsky stated. "Especially that trim along the ceiling." 

"Yeah, look how intricate that is. I bet this place would really be something if they stripped all that wood."

"You mean me," Starsky corrected, grinning slyly.

Hutch looked at him perplexed. "What do you mean you? I was talking about Gregory and Fran. It's a shame they just use this place as rental property. Without too much work, they could really fix it up and sell it for a decent price."

"They don't have to sell it," Starsky declared. "I bought it."

"You what?!" Hutch blurted. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"It's a rent-to-own kind of arrangement," Starsky explained. "I pay rent for a few years and my payments go toward the mortgage. They call it a Land Contract. After that, I buy it outright for a lower price. I hashed it all out with Gregory and Fran. They were thrilled I wanted to buy it, and helped me work it out."

Hutch smiled broadly. "Aw, Starsk! That's great! I love this place; it's got character. I'm glad you bought it."

 

Starsky's eyes twinkled. "Yeah, me too. You know, after all I've been through here, it really felt like home to me. I didn't want to leave. I'm just glad I could swing it." He was quiet for a moment. "There's only one thing missing here," he said, looking up at Hutch. "You."

Hutch looked at him lovingly. "You want me to move back in with you?"

"Of course I do. I never wanted you to leave in the first place. You think you would feel at home here?"

Leaning in for a kiss, Hutch whispered, "I'd love to live with you. Anywhere you are is my home." His kiss was long and gentle.

"Living here could be a good cover for us," Starsky noted. "With a new house, I'd need someone to help me share the expenses, and help fix the place up." Then he jumped up and beckoned excitedly. "Come here! I want to show you something!"

Hutch rose and followed Starsky as he scampered out the patio door. They both came to a halt beside the patio, looking at a sad and ignored flower bed. "Look at this, Hutch. What do you think of this spot for a greenhouse? It's got southern exposure. I could scale it to the same shape as the house, blend it into the roofline, make it look like it was part of the house when it was built. What do you think?"

"You're going to build me a greenhouse?" Hutch's smile lit up his face. "That's wonderful, Starsk! I love it!" He wrapped Starsky in a tight squeeze, kissing him with a fiery passion.

Starsky laughed. "Well, yeah! If you're gonna be living here, I gotta find a home for your jungle buddies. The house looks like a tropical rainforest as it is."

Hutch glanced around the neighborhood, suddenly embarrassed. "Do you think it's okay that I kissed you? Out in public like this?"

"Hutch, this is our home now. I'm not going to be all self-conscious in my own back yard; are you?"

Embarrassment forgotten, Hutch smiled. "No. You're right. I guess there are a lot of adjustments to make, for both of us." He kissed Starsky again, with relish.

"You keep kissing me like that and I'm gonna have to do some adjusting with these jeans!" Starsky laughed.

"I can help with that," Hutch purred suggestively, his hand following through on his offer.

~*~

Several days later, when Hutch had the day off, Starsky and Hutch received an unexpected visit from Flower Pot and Grace. Their doorbell rang, and as Hutch opened it he found the pair standing in the middle of his front lawn.

"Good morning, you two!" Hutch greeted them. "What brings you out?" Starsky wandered out the door behind him.

"Good morning!" Grace called back. She looked to Flower Pot, happily declaring, "Good! They're not here yet!"

"Who's not here yet?" Starsky queried.

"There they are," Flower Pot pointed to a truck slowly driving down their street. He walked to the curb and waved them over.

"Fritchen's Nursery?" Hutch read on the side of the truck. "What's this?"

Two men jumped from the back of the truck and handed Flower Pot a clipboard to sign. "Where'd ya want it?" the robust young man inquired.

"Hey guys!" Flower Pot called to his friends. He waved them over. "Grace and I bought a tree for you. It's sort of a wedding gift," he winked. "They need to know where you want it."

"Oh wow!" Starsky exclaimed with delight. "Lookit, Hutch! It's a linden tree!"

"It's a  _housewarming_  gift," Grace corrected, elbowing her husband in the ribs affectionately.

"A linden tree, Flower Pot?" Hutch asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Flower Pot raised his hands in innocence. "It was Grace's idea, man! She just asked me which tree I liked better, the avocado tree or the linden tree!" In a whisper, he said, "Honest, man. I had nothing to do with this."

Hutch was smiling broadly. "I love it, you guys. Put it over here," he directed to the delivery men, who immediately brought out their equipment to plant the young tree.

Grace explained excitedly. "The fellow at the nursery said that it was a custom to give new couples a linden tree. As the tree grows and flourishes, it's supposed to offer protection to the growing family. He said as long as the tree was healthy, so would the family health be happy." She smiled happily at the tree.

"Thank you! It's a wonderful gesture," Hutch declared, putting his arm around Grace.

In a lowered voice, Flower Pot conspiratorially spoke behind his hand to Starsky. "Yeah, the guy told her it was also supposed to increase fertility, too."

Starsky burst out laughing. He threw an arm around Flower Pot's shoulder. "Thanks, Flower Pot. It's perfect."

 

 

_The End_

 


End file.
